The Cane Toad of Australia
Clad in mud, olive-brown, warts and slime,
Across the lawn, a slow, squat, toxic blight,
Dinner-plate menace, poisonous glands
The warty invader takes all our time,
Flesh-webbed feet in the dead of night—
Spreading fast over native lands.
Nothing stops them, not native nor hound,
We watch them, the curse,
All of the toads.
In thousands now on the ground,
Worse.
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